


When Willpower Isn’t Enough

by Shadoow (Chikita)



Series: Haikyuu Omo Stuff (English) [20]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Desperation, Fights, Gen, Kenma is feral, Omorashi, Omovember 2020, Very minor violence, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Shadoow
Summary: Kenma chooses the worst possible moment to confront Tora about his flawed work ethic.
Series: Haikyuu Omo Stuff (English) [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504397
Kudos: 21





	When Willpower Isn’t Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Tora vs. Kenma fight in Haikyuu season 4 episode 17, and [this](https://omowritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/632849280886095872/i-know-i-know-this-is-just-water-but-the-shadows) wonderful screenshot that doesn't look suspicious at all.

“Um...Yamamoto-kun?”

Tora froze in his tracks, a shiver running down his spine as he voluntarily clenched up every muscle in his body. The practice match before had him tired out for more than one reason, and he wanted nothing but leave after doing his part in cleaning up the gym. But if Kenma, shy and withdrawn Kenma reached out to him on his own merit, it had to be of great importance.

He gulped against the lump in his throat as his hands scrunched up the fabric of his shorts, pulling it upwards as if that would help alleviate the nagging ache down there. It didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. There was no remedy for a full bladder aside from actually going to the bathroom to relieve it.

He couldn’t submit to that. Not now. Not to escape the conflict that was about to come like a coward.

“Maybe you should try being a bit more relaxed.”

Tora’s bladder jolted at the terrible _terrible_ advice and he barely managed to bite down a groan. No, that was the exact opposite of what he’d intended to do! His hands were clenched into shaky fists at his sides but he couldn’t withstand the temptation of moving them elsewhere. So he did, maneuvering his right arm so that his fist rested on his crotch, not grabbing because he wasn’t a child, only nudging, to give himself that illusion of being in control.

“Like you?”, he forced himself to say, startled at the raspy, breathy tone of his voice as the contents of his full bladder surged downwards, pressing against the muscles he kept clenched up so tightly. “It’s not as easy as you say. How can I be _relaxed_ when I want my hard work to pay off?”

Kenma fell silent, accepting his answer. At this moment Tora would’ve had every right to end the conversation, dash off towards the changing room where they had a toilet and pee for an eternity and a half. But he didn’t. His pride was hurt. with Kenma of all people trying to give him advice. Kenma, who slacked off. Kenma, who couldn’t keep up during running exercise. “I didn’t have enough willpower. That’s what I need to fix.” He gave himself another nudge before bolting out of the storage room as fast as his frenzied bladder allowed without making him lose it.

“You’re talking about willpower all the time, but I don’t think that’s doing you any good.” Tora stopped again, unable to keep his right leg from squeezing against his left as the urge spiked, leaving him panicked and a little breathless. His stomach tied into a knot. It hurt. He couldn’t move. And yet, his bothersome teammate was still lecturing him, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. “You have to analyze your mistakes and reflect on what the actual problem is.”

With a growl, Tora turned his head to glare at Kenma, hoping to intimidate him into leaving so he could be alone with his “problem”. He wasn’t even sure if he would make it all the way to the bathroom, let alone do it without slipping into an embarrassing potty dance along the way. But Kenma didn’t seem like he wanted to leave anytime soon, fixating him with that infuriatingly dull expression.

“I only saw the ball,” he said through clenched teeth, another attempt of explaining himself so Kenma would understand and drop it. “I got riled up by the opponent’s taunts. I tried too hard to score from those difficult angles.” And I downed a few liters of water without allowing myself even a single bathroom break for no reason, his body reminded him with a pang of remorse.

Kenma let out an exasperated huff. “If you know all of that, then why do you keep blaming it on willpower?” Tora took a strained breath, feeling his whole body vibrate with need as his brain struggled and failed to come up with the right words. He wasn’t bad at speaking his mind when he had to, far from it. But with the pressure in his bladder, the overwhelming desire to empty it right there and then, and his temper sparking at Kenma delaying him, his mind drew a blank.

“Honestly, I think all that extra running and weight-lifting isn’t you trying to work hard.” Kenma said, his tone serious and a bit bitter, “You’re just doing it for self-satisfaction.”

That was the final straw, the one thing that caused his brain to short-circuit. Before Tora could regain even a sliver of his sense, he flung around, only seeing red and black morphing into a muddle of shades as he stomped forward. Ignoring Kenma’s surprised gasp, he seized him by the collar of his tracksuit and heaved him up until they were face to face, their foreheads almost touching.

“How about you then?”, he hollered, his mind consumed by fury, and nothing but it, “How many balls have you just not bothered to chase, huh?” Kenma averted his eyes, looking stung, but that only served to rile Tora up even more, his bursting bladder adding to his rage because _fucking hell_ , did that lazy bum have to pick this exact time to pick a fight? When he was seconds away from pissing himself? Was he doing that on purpose just to mess with him?

“If you can’t even be motivated during training sessions, it’s gonna be the same deal during matches!” His voice turned up into a shriek, desperation overriding his senses as he shook Kenma like a kid would do with a doll during a temper tantrum. He wasn’t thinking, merely giving in to impulses. “An unmotivated person like you has no right to talk about what willpower is!”

“Shut up with your willpower already!” Kenma snapped out of nowhere and launched himself at his chest, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other one pulling at his hair. “It’s meaningless!” Tora was taken aback, shock settling into his bones as he tried to pry the guy off of him. Never before had he witnessed Kenma raise his voice, let alone get angry enough to fight someone with his bare hands. “It’s not like it’ll help you stay alive with one hit point!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”, he cried out as the adrenaline failed to lock up his bladder, a warm trickle running down his leg, gaining force as there was nothing for him to do to stop it. “Drop it already, you’re making no sense!” A dry gasp broke out of his throat, his eyes watering from the effort of holding back an ocean. Kenma wiggled in his grip, shoving and clawing at his head, still defending himself. Tora let go of his collar to grab his shoulders instead, trying to end this before he would thoroughly humiliate himself in the middle of the gym.

Out of nowhere, Kenma’s leg shot up. Tora tried to back off, squirm out of his grip and flee, but it was too late. “No! Fuck!” He hadn’t hit his groin like Tora had expected with fear, but as soon as Kenma’s bony knee pressed into the firm bulge sitting over his waistband, it was over.

He was done for.

“Let go, Kenma! I need to- I’m-”, he begged, losing all composure as he struggled to get away, the jab enough for his bladder to give out completely, warmth hissing into his shorts and down his legs in a raging river. Kenma shot him a confused look, probably because _he_ had been the one to make this physical, _he_ had attacked Kenma instead of letting him have his opinion.

His eyes shifted downwards to Tora’s crotch, where the liquid was still pouring out of his body, now with enough force to soak through the fabric in a heavy stream, pattering onto the wooden floor with impressive speed. When Kenma made that little _oh_ sound of realization, Tora almost crumbled. He wanted to die. He wanted to be sucked up by the floor and _die._ Despite the shame consuming him, he didn’t have time to process what was happening, what he was _doing_ because the scorching heat of embarrassment was instantly replaced by freezing cold.

“Hey! Mister Freeze...says to chill out!”

Tora was petrified, glancing up at Fukunaga standing in front of them both, holding an empty bucket. One look at Kenma told him that the other boy was just as soaking wet as he felt, his hair and clothes dripping with leftover water. The fact that Toru was dripping from _another_ part of his body didn’t even stand out that much with them both looking like drowned kittens, his own bodily fluids only adding to the massive puddle they were standing in together.

In every other situation, he would’ve fussed about how he was supposed to respond and who was going to clean up the mess. But now, he almost felt like he had to _thank_ his fellow first year for his timing, maybe even pull him into a hug after getting out of his saturated clothes, taking an actual shower, and changing into something dry. Never in his life had he been that grateful for getting splashed with cold water. Kenma was wet, he was wet. It made no difference.

“What’s going on here? A water fight?” Kuroo waltzed into the room, Yaku and Kai in tow. His brows were furrowed but he didn’t seem overly distraught. “It’s not even summer yet. You’ll get sick.”

“I had to separate them,” Fukunaga replied with a faint smile, “You know how they do it with cat fights.” A few beats of silence passed before Yaku broke out into roaring laughter, pulling Kuroo along with him. Tora just stood there, shaking from the relief of the agonizing pressure being lifted, and the fact that he had succeeded in hiding his childish accident from his senpais. His legs felt weak, his heart rate calming down slowly but he could still hear the blood rushing in his ears. There was quite a bit left in his bladder, but the flow had faded into a trickle by now, too weak for anyone to not confuse it for water. _Well,_ anyone but Kenma.

“We need a mop.” Kai rolled his eyes, an amused and somewhat fond smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Tora nodded in agreement, forcing himself to put on a grim expression to not raise any more suspicion. He was about to step out of the puddle to gain some distance, now that his body had graciously decided to stop pumping out fluid against his will, when Kenma started snickering. Quitely, barely audibly through the fog in his brain, but he heard.

“What’s there to laugh at?”, he blew up at him, cringing as the movement made the water slosh in his shoes. At least he wished only water was in there. His shorts were sticking to his thighs, making them itch uncomfortably. He really _really_ needed a shower. A hot one. By himself. Not in front of half of his team.

“You’re pretty funny, Fukunaga-kun,” Kenma said in his usual calm voice, not paying any attention to Tora. For some reason, Fukunaga was flattered by his words, even blushing a tiny bit. Yaku and Kuroo were still cracking up, Kai was on his way to the storage closet, and the rest of their teammates had left long ago. Everyone was distracted, doing their own thing. Tora sighed, shivering from the cold as his eyes turned to the puddle on the floor, both glad and upset about his hydration level. Shame sunk into the pit of his stomach. He had done that.

He, wing spiker, and aspiring ace of the Nekoma volleyball club had just pissed himself in a freaking gym.

\---

“Hey, Kenma.” Tora stopped him as they were the last people to leave the club room, showered and changed into fresh clothes. Kenma responded with a humming noise, but since he had his back turned to him and was staring directly at his phone, Tora couldn’t see his expression. He couldn’t see whether or not he was playing games or silently judging him.

“You...caught me in one hell of a bad situation today.” He lowered his head, the memory making his face grow hotter than the sun. His hands were buried in the pockets of his jacket, clutching the inner lining for the sole reason of having something to hold onto. Talking about it was painful but he needed closure, or else he’d fret about it for the rest of the week. “I had too much water during the match and- I know this doesn’t justify me doing what I did but I just-”

“It was an accident.” Kenma turned his head to look at Tora before averting his eyes as if the topic was way out of his comfort zone, “There’s nothing to justify. Nobody saw anything.”

“You did,” Tora grumbled under his breath, eyes turning downwards to kick a few pebbles down the hill. He should’ve been happy about Kenma being the only one who had seen him disgrace himself, and if Fukunaga had any clue, he didn’t show it. It chafed at his pride, however, ending a fight in the most dishonorable way he could imagine after his pointless rant about willpower.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Kenma’s voice was quiet but firm. It made Tora feel at ease, but couldn’t stop the guilt from eating away at him. Doing a poor job at the match, attacking his teammate over a disagreement, then almost peeing on him in the middle of their childish squabble because his body decided to screw him over. Today definitely hadn’t been one of his proudest days.

“Dude, aren’t you the least bit mad?” He found himself nervously awaiting Kenma’s answer, shuffling his feet.

“I guess I am.” He shrugged, still not looking at him. “But, I should’ve noticed there was something off. I would’ve never approached you after the match if I knew you had to...you know.” If Tora had thought his face couldn’t get any hotter, he was mistaken. “Let’s just pretend that never happened,” Kenma suggested as if he had mercy, slouching in his walk and stifling a yawn.

“Hey, wait a minute. You barely moved during the match. How can you even be tired?” Tora asked without thinking, biting his lip as he realized his faux pas. If Fukunaga’s timing was perfect, his was notoriously bad. As expected, that’s what tore Kenma’s eyes away from his mobile game, making him look back at him like he looked at Kuroo during an argument. The same sulky frown.

“Because I have limits that I’m aware of. Willpower isn’t everything.” Tora puffed up his cheeks but kept his mouth shut this time, in no position to argue. He would rather go on another run or do some more heavy weight-lifting than admit it, but Kenma had a point. He always had a point.

“You know what? You’re a lot cooler than I thought you were.” He looked up at the sky where the sun was about to go down, light, fluffy clouds passing by with every breeze. Even though the embarrassment would last for a while, he actually felt relaxed now that he knew there was no serious bad blood between Kenma and him. They were teammates, _comrades_ after all, and comrades were supposed to stick together. Even when they didn’t always get along.


End file.
